THE WIZARD OF OZ (1939)

It’s perhaps the most beloved children’s film ever made. It’s spawned numerous, disparate interpretations, from the political to the religious, from the mythical to the psychedelic. But what is the true meaning behind Victor Fleming’s The Wizard of Oz?

Often celebrated as one of the greatest pieces of cinema, the film is based on L. Frank Baum’s 1900 children’s novel The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. The story follows Dorothy Gale (Judy Garland), a young girl who dreams of escaping to a place without worry. After a tornado lifts her house into the heavens, knocking her unconscious in the process, she awakens to find herself in a strange land, populated by even stranger characters…

The Wizard of Oz is a film that requires a little bit of historical knowledge to appreciate fully, which this article aims to provide. Understanding the context in which the novel was written is important, as it also provides perspective on the intriguingly similar circumstances that led The Wizard of Oz to become such a timely film for 1939 America.

Specifically, both the novel and the film were released during periods of massive economic downturn in America. In the 1890s, the desperate economy led to the formation of the Populist Party, a political group founded in Midwestern states. They believed their agricultural interests were not being looked after by business moguls on the East Coast, nor by the large banking institutions. Unemployment increased in the recession of 1893, and the value of farms plummeted.

This led to the Populist Party gaining massive support, with urban workers relating to their plight; they joined forces. It resulted in the Populist Party almost winning a majority at congressional elections in 1894. However, they were narrowly defeated, then faded into obscurity as a group: as the economy improved, the union between urban worker and farmer fell apart. As the party disbanded, the opportunity for lasting change disappeared along with it.

Though being a children’s book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz was a story about the struggle for change in America. At least, this is what academic Michael A. Genovese argues in his short essay on the film. As a Professor of Political Science, Genovese claims Dorothy is symbolic of the Everyman, while the Tin Man and Scarecrow are emblematic of the industrial worker and farmers, respectively. As he concludes: “You are taking a populist journey in search of a new political order that replaces the power of industrial capitalists with a farmer-workers alliance. Have a pleasant trip.”  

Genovese opined that Baum was crestfallen by the demise of the Populist Party, writing the children’s story as an allegory for what could have been. However, there is evidence to the contrary: some believe he was openly against the organisation. The fact Baum wrote a poem in support of the movement’s greatest adversary, William McKinley, supports this hypothesis.

Much has been written about the film’s symbolism—the yellow brick road representing the gold standard, the green Emerald City serving as a metaphor for Wall Street, and the deceitful Wizard of Oz being emblematic of the US President. Needless to say, opinions differ on the story’s true meaning. Baum himself insisted it was merely a children’s story, so perhaps we should all stop trying to solve a riddle we’ve been assured doesn’t exist.

Nah—let’s keep digging. There’s definitely more to this story than meets the eye. I, for one, thought that Oz’s unveiling, revealing the purportedly great and omnipotent wizard as little more than a powerless old man, was a metaphor for the manipulative behaviours of organised religion. This reading is potentially supported by the fact Baum was a member of the Theosophical Society, an organisation that championed a focus on spirituality rather than a focus on a specific religious doctrine.

Are the Munchkin people child labourers? Is the Tin Man a metaphor for the dehumanising effects of industrial work? Or the Scarecrow a comment on the incompetent, brainless attempt farmers made to take over the means of production? The story’s ending shows the scarecrow assuming control of Emerald City, suggesting that the country is going to be returned to the workers. Meanwhile, the powerless charlatans who run the place will drift away on balloons, unable to prevent their own self-imposed exile.

There are many different interpretations one can take from the story. One that seems indisputable is that the film almost implores the viewer to “pull themselves up by their own bootstraps,” an expression commonly associated with the 1930s. Indeed, it seems Fleming could not have picked a better time to adapt the novel: the film was produced during the greatest economic disaster in world history.

With the book being based on the political climate of the 1893 recession, the film draws visual and thematic inspiration from the Great Depression, which lasted from around 1929-1941. That Dorothy comes from Kansas, one of the worst affected regions in the Dust Bowl, is no accident. The Wizard of Oz is a love letter to those worst affected by the environmental collapse and subsequent recession. Only two years before the film entered production, Kansas experienced one of the most horrific dust storms in the country’s history.

Perhaps it’s for this reason that “Somewhere over the Rainbow” became an immediate hit: many people at that time were wishing for a similar salvation. Dorothy’s sincere longing for a better life, away from the toil and drudgery of daily existence, for a place where there isn’t any sorrow, is a typical theme of Great Depression cinema: “Do you suppose there is such a place, Toto?”

Dorothy also demonstrates the same kind of empathy and compassion that heroes of this period exhibited: kindness and devotion to one’s fellow man is paramount if success is to be obtained. The group do achieve their aims, without the help of the powerless authority figure, who is revealed to be a buffoon. His tyrannical demagoguery is even hinted at by the brainless Scarecrow: “Some people without brains do an awful lot of talking, don’t they?”

As such, watching The Wizard of Oz occasionally feels as though one’s consuming a colourful dose of soft propaganda, the kind which philosophers Adorno and Horkheimer censured in their now famous essay The Culture Industry: Enlightenment as Mass Deception. Arguing that media—with cinema being the primary culprit—intentionally disseminates ideology as part of an all-encompassing framework of mass communication, the academic duo believed that the masses are soothed into passivity by pleasurable, appealing art.

It’s certainly a dour way of interpreting a children’s film, but applying their theory to this particular cinematic gem does seem apt. The oft-repeated message in The Wizard of Oz is: “There’s no place like home.” Dorothy desperately wants to return to Kansas, a place riddled with environmental disaster and financial ruin. It appears as though the message being sent is: though times are hard, there’s no place better—work on through and deliverance will arrive!

Again, one could also interpret this axiom in a different way. “There’s no place like home!” sounds like a fervent plea for the US to avoid entering the apparently inevitable war in Europe, to continue along its isolationist policy as tensions increased overseas. Indeed, less than one week after this film was released, Germany invaded Poland on 1 September 1939, launching the largest armed conflict ever known to mankind. 

Maybe it is only a tenuous connection, but it’s curious to think that foreign policy and national identity could be wrapped up into one pithy slogan. Of course, this is not uncommon for populist politics, as evidenced by the 2016 US election.

With this in mind, The American Dream is wrapped up into a charming heroine’s journey. Dorothy ran away from the family that loved her, was transported to an alien world, where she then discovered that what truly mattered was right at home all along: family and, presumably, hard work. In this respect, it is always interesting to me how malleable the standard mythical model is as a conduit for meaning. The noble quest remains the same, but the message changes. The architecture is identical, yet the texture evolves with time.

Suffice to say, the writing is superlative (and enigmatic), although it’s not what made the film such a success. Judy Garland’s stunning performance as Dorothy has become so iconic that it’s now essentially synonymous with movie stardom. There’s little to say about the importance of Garland’s work here that hasn’t already been said, but if I were to capture the significance of this role in one sentence, I would say this: it’s one of the most well-known protagonists from early cinema, and perhaps the greatest heroine of the silver screen until Ellen Ripley appeared in Alien (1979) 40 years later.

Of course, as sublime as Garland is, it wouldn’t have become such an iconic film were it not for the utterly surreal journey the film creates; watching this film 85 years after its release is about as close as one can get to a psychedelic trip without travelling to Amsterdam. The sheer number of colours on display renders each viewing a hypnotising experience, regardless of how many times you’ve seen it.

The Wizard of Oz is largely remembered for popularising colour in film. A common misconception is that it was the first colour film ever produced. While this is untrue, it is probably the most famous colour film from early cinema. Watching Dorothy step out of her farmhouse into a fantastical land is delightful, no matter how many times I revisit it: it’s as though the filmmakers are literally opening the door onto a whole new world of cinematic possibilities. The audience is as stunned as Dorothy is.

Perhaps part of the film’s enduring appeal is that it is almost as entertaining to watch as an adult as it was when you were a child. The sense of threat lingers, and while I may not still have nightmares about the Wicked Witch of the West (Margaret Hamilton), I am certainly reminded of why I did as a young boy: Hamilton’s work is sensational. So legendary was her performance that producers had to delete much of her scenes as they were deemed too frightening for audiences, let alone children. Still celebrated today, Hamilton’s Wicked Witch was ranked as the 4th ‘Greatest Screen Villain’ by the American Film Institute (AFI), the highest-charting female character.

Ray Bolger, Bert Lahr, and Jack Haley all provide splendid support, but the show belongs to the ladies. The film is truly a mesmerising experience, which is arguably why it has spawned so many interpretations. As I watch the characters all fall into blissful sleep in the poppy field, there is something so poetic about it that there must be a dual meaning. Marxist critique? A tacit polemic against the passivity induced by religion? There will never be one definitive answer, but part of the magic of this film is that it implores you to keep guessing, even if the book’s author assures you it is a waste of time.

Regardless of how one chooses to interpret the story, what is inarguable is that the story works perfectly well on its own. Though we may be obsessed with the subtext, we probably would not be so interested if the text itself were not superb. The Wizard of Oz became one of America’s most treasured films because it is undeniably charming, as well as a deeply touching ode to family, to friendship, and to one’s roots, even if they are planted in an arid Dust Bowl.

USA | 1939 | 101 MINUTES | 1.37:1 | BLACK & WHITE • COLOUR | ENGLISH

Cast & Crew

director: Victor Fleming.
writers: Noel Langley, Florence Ryerson & Edgar Allan Woolf (based on the novel ‘The Wonderful Wizard of Oz’ by L. Frank Baum).
starring: Judy Garland, Frank Morgan, Ray Bolger, Bert Lahr, Jack Haley, Billie Burke, Margaret Hamilton & Charley Grapewin.